Impared

My friend has autism and I was reading a little about it and I randomly got an idea. I'm not sure where this story is going or what might happen.

Chapter 1

....

Dear Journal,
I hate my life. I don't care what anyone says about that " It could be worse, don't be selfish." Well. Selfish means you're only thinking about yourself. I'm not. Well, maybe just a little, but it's not just me. It's my sister, Giovanna. She has autism. It was all fine when we were younger, when she was ten and I was nine. Everyone was treated equally and everyone loved her. I doubt anyone gave a second thought to her "Little Problem" as we call it. But now Giovanna is 15 and recently entered high school. She doesn't fit in at ALL. I'm not there to help her either. When---if---anyone teased her in middle school, if anyone made a crack about her autism, I'd be there to tell them to back off. They always would. But she's in highschool and i'm stuck in eighth grade. She's in a completely different school that's down the street a quarter mile away from mine and I'm not there to protect her. G didn't make anyfriends in the week she's been there. It's going to be a tough four years if she doesn't make friends.

-Gianni Hazard


I sighed and put down my pen, looking around at the kids sitting near me to see if anyone was reading over my shoulder. I didn't want anyone talking about my sister. OK, so everyone at this school loved her and miss her alot. I still don't need anyone knowing I write about her.

Which I do, every day.

I shook my head slightly, closing my notebook and hiding it in my binder.

My friend, Andy gave me a suspicious look. "What didja write?" he asked me, eying my binder. I grabbed my binder and hid it under the table on my lap. Andy smirked and rolled his eyes. "Fine, be that way," he said and turned back to a group of guys who were talking about some football game that was on last night.

I don't like football. I don't like any sport except basketball and I'm pretty awesome at it, I'm one of the best ball-stealers on the team. I only like playing the sport though. Watching it on TV makes me fidgety and I end up going outside to shoot hoops halfway through the game.

Suddenly the bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period. I only had one class left, which was art. No one does much in that class, and the teacher, Ms. Garratt is too burned out to notice (or care).

Despite all the positives of Art class, I walked slowly down the hall, clumping my feet loudly on the grey tile floor. Inside my head I was whining like a five-year-old; "I don't wanna go to art class!" over and over.

By the time I got to class, I managed to have the majority of kids in the hall staring at me curiously as if wondering why I was being so loud. And they were probably wondering.

I lowered my eyes, focusing on the floor and toning down my shoes and made my way to my seat in the back of the room.

Soon enough the classroom filled up with the obnoxious 13 and 14 year-olds I'm forced to call my classmates. None of my friends were in this class.

I sighed and rested my head on the table, staring ut the window and watching two squirrels fight over some bread or something. I smiled faintly, momentarilly forgetting my problems.

Finally, finally, the bell rang and I jumped up, grabbed my binder, and was one of the first people out of the classroom. I was out the door and halfway down the hall 8 seconds after we were dismissed.

It was friday. Friday was the day that me and G stay up at night sitting together in my room and talked. Well, she was usually the one to talk. She appears shy to everyone else, but talks a LOT around me. Only me. It makes me feel so special and it makes me feel a lot better to hear her voice since I rarely hear her talk. Only on Fridays.

I unlocked my bike from the bike rack outside and pedaled off towards Giovanna's school. I always went to get her when school ended.

SHe was sitting on the stairs outside the enterance of the school, her bike lying on the ground where she dropped it.

"Hey," she said with a smile, grabbing her bike and getting on.

"Hey G, how was school?" I said. God, I was starting to sound like a mom. Her smile faded for a minute. "The usual," she said, which meant not too good. I nodded and gave her a pat on the head. "It'll get better," I said, like I always do. She nodded and smiled again.

"C'mon, let's go home," I said and we pedaled towards home.

comment plz. SHould I continue?

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